


dangerous dance

by essektheylyss (midnightindigo)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Political Intrigue, Spy Intrigue, Undercover Dancing, episode 97 insert scene, the level of tension in this..... unreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightindigo/pseuds/essektheylyss
Summary: It's nearly impossible to avoid the Mighty Nein at a party, not when they've spread out across the room in varying states of disarray. Especially not when he's trying to keep them from finding out who this strange nobleman actually is. And most definitely not when Caleb appears out of nowhere and asks him to dance.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 6
Kudos: 170





	dangerous dance

**Author's Note:**

> fic request for an anon on tumblr! this was a lot of fun.

He shouldn’t be staring, not with so much at stake and so many people in attendance who have seen through him before. He should not be watching his co-conspirator so intently as he talks with the man who might bring this entire scheme crashing down.

Essek would love to leave this party as fast as possible, but he swallows down another sip of his drink and hovers as far from the Mighty Nein as possible. That is harder than it should be, with them roaming all corners of the ballroom, but he should’ve expected as much.

None of this has been easy since they’d crashed through the walls of his life, and he’d enjoyed their intrusion at dinner, but this is simply out of control.

He needs to leave as soon as possible without arousing suspicion.

But Caleb is speaking with the Martinet, and Beau returned from an alcove with Caduceus looking around with eyes like plates like she’s on drugs, and the rest of them locked a nobleman on the balcony, and he hasn’t seen Veth in too long to not be suspicious, and he thinks that this is altogether going to crash and burn as thoroughly as they have crashed and burned any possibility of him escaping this scheme remorselessly.

And Caleb is still speaking with the Martinet.

He watches them toast, and he downs half of his drink with them, from the other side of the room. He anxiously casts prestidigitation to keep the hair of his illusion upright. It is kind of silly, he admits, but it gives his hands something to do.

They are situated on the edge of an ocean, about to embark on an undertaking the likes of which this continent has not seen in centuries, and he feels thoroughly anchored to this spot, even without his feet touching the ground.

Caleb gives the Martinet a slight nod, and seems to excuse himself. Essek lets out a sigh of relief.

And then those blue eyes meet his, and his heart nearly stops as Caleb moves in his direction.

They’re all dressed to the nines—ha—and he can’t help but think that Caleb cleans up very nicely. Essek has never seen him look disheveled, aside from perhaps when he entered the throne room in those ridiculous chains, but he has also never seen him dress up.

He tries to shift somewhere Caleb might not catch up to him, but the ballroom is only so big, and after a moment, he finds the wizard standing in front of him with an imperceptible expression. He has to remind himself that Caleb cannot see who is underneath this mask of his—this is not a masquerade, but Essek is hidden all the same.

If he was seen, it would be the end for him, and for all he has worked to accomplish.

It would also be the end of this, he thinks, as Caleb nods gently, and once again shakes himself; he is not himself. There is nothing between them here.

There is nothing between them in Rosohna, either, he reminds himself. He shouldn’t be so foolish.

“We did not get to speak much, yesterday,” Caleb says quietly, and holds out a drink. Essek takes it with a barely steady hand, and for a split second wonders if it’s poisoned.

He is Lord Dezran Thane, and Lord Dezran Thane is not a person whom Caleb Widogast would find a need to poison.

He takes a drink to avoid answering and nods.

Caleb pierces him with a gaze that chills him to the bone, freezing him in place. Caleb cannot know. He can’t. Essek—Lord Thane—would not be standing here, alive, if he did.

“You do not say much, Lord Thane.”

“No, I am, ah, not used to this kind of event.”

“Then why are you here?”

He gives a half-smile. Caleb’s got him—Lord Thane—there. He hadn’t expected to need much of his cover story, and attending this party was rather incongruous with what little he’s explained.

“I would very much love not to be here.” He shoves down a cringe as he remembers an echo of a statement that sounded very much like that one. Different enough that it shouldn’t alert Caleb to it, Caleb who has a memory to rival his own, but if he’s not found Essek out—

Caleb’s piercing stare has not shifted from his own, and he is glad that Lord Dezran Thane has already expressed discomfort at interacting with other people.

“Well, that makes too of us,” Caleb says lowly, and clinks his glass against Essek’s. “To getting this all over with, hmm?”

Essek nods, and they both drink together, as the band in the corner strikes up a light tune, a prelude to whatever performance Jester’s mother is going to make soon, and he looks around to see if she is in fact arriving now. When he looks back, Caleb holds out a hand. “Would you, ah, care to dance?”

Essek sees several pairs move toward the center, where a bit of a dance floor has begun to assemble, moving in time with the movement, and he swallows hard as he sets one foot on the ground, then the other. That would be far too much of a tip off—having a signature spell like that is all well and good until you are trying not to be seen, and he has no doubt Caleb would see that.

He is several inches shorter than Lord Dezran Thane, but if the change has made any difference in that, it does not seem to register on Caleb’s face.

“Very well,” he sighs, and sets his fingers in Caleb’s palm, and allows him to lead them both into the crowd.

On another time, in another body, in another life perhaps, he could enjoy this, but right now he seeks out the faces of Caleb’s friends, the ones who he knows are watching, who are all likely on high alert, and several of them are most definitely watching—Jester’s tail flicks back and forth as she snacks on whatever hors d’oeuvres she’s found at the food table with a shit-eating smirk, elbowing Yasha, who seems rather uncomfortable beside her.

Across the room, Beau and Fjord are staring daggers at them, Beau’s eyes still huge—she cannot focus on anything for long, though, and Fjord keeps hissing something to her. Essek wonders what they might be saying.

The only thing that he can feel at all is his hand in Caleb’s, and that feels as though it’s on fire.

“You know, I am not so used to dancing—“

“That’s alright,” Caleb murmurs as he pulls Essek—Lord Thane—to his chest, and Essek thinks if he wasn’t so numb that Caleb’s breath on his cheek would’ve elicited more of a reaction.

As it is, he shivers, and Caleb has not allowed him to look away.

“I will lead, ja?”

He only nods, and then Caleb steps, and he follows.

But only for a few steps, before he’s already stepped on Caleb’s toes, and they start again. It happens twice more before the mirth in Caleb’s eyes is apparent.

“If you would like me to lead,” he says, “then you need to let me.”

For a moment, it almost feels like they are in the library of the Xhorhaus, where there is no pretense between them. Essek imagines for that moment what total surrender might feel like, a shifting of the weight off of his shoulders for the first time in three years, an allowance that others may be willing to help him right the wrongs that his actions have led to.

It also might feel like a death sentence, a noose around his throat, an executioner’s blade at the back of his neck.

But for tonight, this small relinquishing of control is not so dangerous. He nods again, and they start once more, and this time Essek does step in time with him. Though he’s unused to being on his feet, Caleb’s movements are confident and assured, and it’s not so hard to follow when Essek lets himself follow, for the first time in a long time.

“Where did you learn to dance, Caleb?”

If Caleb notices that he’s forgotten the pretense of using last names, he doesn’t address it. “A very long time ago, in my schooling. I attended the Soltryce Academy, in my youth. I had very impressive teachers.”

And he stares at Essek so hard that he fears for a moment that his illusion has dropped in the time they’ve been dancing. He looks to his hand on Caleb’s shoulder, which is lighter skinned than his own, and narrowly avoids breathing a sigh of relief.

“I did not know the Cerberus Assembly thought dance an important skill to teach,” he says softly, and his eyes flicker to the Martinet, who has not found them in the crowd, surrounded as they are by other couples and obscured by the dim light.

“The Cerberus Assembly prizes many skills that allow you to get to know those you work with. You must know how… slippery—they are to get to know.”

He blinks back to the Winds of Eons, and stumbles over his words before he smiles. “Oh, yes. The Cerberus Assembly is well known for their secrecy. But then, many mages have their secrets.”

“Yes, they do.”

Essek isn’t sure how he stays upright when Caleb pins his gaze this time, and he mouths wordlessly for several seconds before the song ends, and the couples around them break apart and applaud politely for the band.

They don’t move as another song begins, more jaunty, but it is so cold in the middle of all these people with Caleb’s hands on his hand and waist.

“The Cerberus Assembly is far more dangerous than you know,” Caleb whispers and Essek almost considers teleporting them away right then and there, dragging them both to another plane if it means they can have a different conversation, one without so much weight. Gravity has never been a problem for him before this moment, and he is rapidly losing control of whatever composure he’d thought he could maintain in this dance.

It goes far beyond whatever they are doing right now, and Essek imagines that they both know it, even though that’s impossible.

“Be careful,” he says, and then lets go aside from his hand, to which he bows to press a kiss. It lingers on his skin, even after Caleb has pulled away, turned to stride toward his friends, and the cold night air hits Essek’s fingers.

He rubs the spot where Caleb’s lips touched his hand as though it burns.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!


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